


Five Times Ryan Made Bad Puns and the One Time He Didn't

by doobler



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Bad Puns, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Gore, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobler/pseuds/doobler
Summary: Its just stupid puns and Freewood





	Five Times Ryan Made Bad Puns and the One Time He Didn't

Gavin screeched when a body was plopped on the ground in front of him. The Vagabond towered nearby, bending down to wipe the blood off his knife onto the cadaver’s jacket.  
“What the fuck??” Gavin asked, his voice high and shrill.  
“That’s what a good job looks like.” The mercenary replied.  
“You lopped off his left arm and leg!”  
“Yeah,” The Vagabond lifted his mask high enough to show off his glimmering smile. “He’s all right now.”

 

Gavin kept his distance, watching the Vagabond work. He wasn’t particularly fond of the frequency of this pairing but Geoff said the mercenary wouldn’t work with anyone else.  
“Aaalmost done.” The Vagabond sang. His voice was low and melodic, sending a shiver down Gavin’s spine.  
When he stepped back to show off his handiwork, Gavin gagged. What was one of their contacts a few minutes ago was now a limp body with the top of his head slashed off. A limp and greying brain sat on the table while a fresh one was shoved inside his empty skull.  
“I asked him if he wanted a transplant and he refused,” The Vagabond crooned. “I guess I changed his mind.”  
Gavin threw up.

 

"Where's the rest of the shipment?"  
Gavin covered his eyes, peering between his fingers. He watched the Vagabond slam their captive's head on the table for the fifth time. If the poor idiot didn't have brain damage already, he definitely did now.  
"You don't cross the Fakes and then stay quiet, fucker," The Vagabond hissed. He gripped a fistful of the man's hair, yanking his head up to meet his gaze. "Tell us. Or I'll go from blunt force trauma to surgery."  
When he let go of the man's hair, he flopped forward, unmoving. Something shifted in the air. The Vagabond's posture changed, tensed shoulders and clenched fists relaxing gradually. He turned to Gavin, finding him in the unlit corner.  
"This reminds me of a joke about amnesia," He spoke up. "But I forgot how it goes."  
Gavin stared back, unblinking, and for a moment questioned every single action and mistake he'd ever made.

 

“Gavin, stand back!”  
Gavin obeyed, hopping to the side as the Vagabond charged forward. Their guns had run completely out of ammo and the mercenary’s knife was lodged in a body too far away. Bobbing and weaving like a pro, the Vagabond grabbed an empty glass soda bottle nearby and smashed it onto the head of one of their assailants.  
“He’s lucky that was a soft drink!” The Vagabond laughed, earning a punch to the jaw.

 

“Gavin, keep her straight!”  
The Brit tried not to flush as the Vagabond– rather Ryan– gripped his shoulder encouragingly. They’d gotten closer over the course of their whirlwind partnership. Had the rest of the Crew never been so terrified of the ex-mercenary, Gavin highly doubted they would’ve become such fast friends.  
Gavin swerved, trying to right himself. The car in front of them was trying it’s best to speed down the residential roads of Los Santos.   
“Fucker shoulda never conned us like that.” Ryan barked over the biting wind. He leaned out of the car window, landing a perfect shot at the car’s tires. It shrieked down the road before crashing hard into a nearby building.  
“I guess that’s one way to see a Mercedes bends.” Ryan spoke up, watching the flames.  
Gavin ignored his high-five.

 

“Holy shit, Gavvy!”  
Ryan caught up to Gavin, panting heavily. The Brit stood tall and proud, hips cocked, hands on his waist. He’d expertly launched a rocket underneath a rival gang’s car, flipping it thrice in the air before it landed on top of a hot dog cart. Ryan had been so impressed, he lost control of his motorcycle, temporarily taking a detour onto the sidewalk.  
“Oi, Rye-bread,” Gavin beamed. “I relish the fact that you mustard the strength to ketchup with me. Get it?”  
Ryan stood, silent, unmoving, before whipping off his mask and pulling Gavin into a searing deep kiss.  
“That was fucking amazing.” Ryan laughed. His smile was blinding.  
“Yeah. I know I am.” Gavin blushed.

**Author's Note:**

> psst i have an art blog over at drawy-things.tumblr.com


End file.
